


Soot and Ashes

by Solena2



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Author Has Figured Out How Tags are Formatted and Will Not Be Stopped From Creating New Ones, Floris | Fundy Deserves Better, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Humor, Introspection, Light Angst, Resurrected Wilbur Soot, Resurrection, Sane Wilbur Soot, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Wilbur Soot Regains His Memories, Wilbur Soot and Ghostbur are the Same Person, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Depressed, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, Wilbur Soot is a Mood, no beta we die like wilbur soot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29025570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solena2/pseuds/Solena2
Summary: Wilbur Soot is dead inside and he's very aware of the irony in that.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson | Philza, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot/Sally the Salmon (Past)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 116





	1. Reminiscence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title for this chapter was "Haha depression ghost go (wil)brrr"  
> Also, I'm back! Sorry for vanishing off the face of the Earth for two months!

You know that Wilbur Soot was not a happy person.

You know from the way so many of his memories skitter and scramble away from your weak attempts to grasp at them, to see them for truth and to know what life he lived before he became you.

Here’s something you’ll never tell anyone, even yourself:

You could be him again, if you wanted. You could hold tight to the shattered remains of him and fit them back together, piece by piece, with no implement but your own will.

The reason you have only happy memories- it isn’t some quirk of ghosthood at all.

The reason you only remember the times when Wilbur Soot was happy is that you’re a coward at heart, and the small reminders of ashes and explosions and sacrifices in the name of a country soon to fall are reminders you’re far too scared to fight for.

So you don’t, and instead you tell yourself that everything is okay, that you won the election, that you were there to watch your son grow up, and you pretend that these lies make you happier, you pretend that forgetting the sad things is involuntary, because you can’t bear the pain of remembering.

And it’s so easy to forget, as a ghost. Your life seems so distant now, so insignificant when you can find enough life and love to sate you without ever having to face the spectre you’ve made yourself into.

What’s the point of remembering who you were? You’d rather be who you are now.

(You ignore the small voice in the back of your mind that says dodging your guilt won’t make it disappear)

\--

You remember when Fundy was small. The way he’d make little redstone devices he’d seen on the internet and show them to you, and you’d call him your little champion, and he’d grin and hug you tight.

You remember when Technoblade first came to live with you. When he’d been just a kid like any other, swinging a toy sword with wild abandon at anyone who dared oppose him. (Or deny him dessert)

You remember when Tommy first met Tubbo. Both of them had been so small then, just two kids running around having fun, just children playing in the mud and complaining when they had to clean up afterwards.

You remember when Philza first extended a hand to you. When you’d been just another kid on the street sitting on a corner singing for money, and he’d approached you, looming so much taller than you with those massive wings, and he’d offered you a home and a family.

You don’t remember how quickly Philza gave in and killed you.

You don’t remember Tubbo exiling Tommy or what happened to him during it.

You don’t remember Technoblade trying to kill your sixteen year old brother and you don’t remember the withers.

You don’t remember Fundy telling you that you were a terrible father.

You can’t bear to.

\--

You keep offering blue, and it never seems to make any difference. You follow the people you care about and watch as they just keep hurting each other, over and over again.

They keep referencing things you don’t remember, keep leaving you out of important discussions, and you know they’re right to. With you having so little memory, you can’t contribute anything meaningful, and you aren’t dumb enough to think that any amount of blue will stop the kind of sadness you see now.

Everyone seems to be angry at everyone else, and you’ve forgotten why.

L’manburg is a bombed out husk, and you’ve forgotten why.

Tommy flinches when he sees TNT, and you _need to remember why_.

\--

It was always for your family, you think.

Even now, when you’ve pushed Alivebur so far away from you that you can’t reach him anymore, you can tell how much he cared about your family.

That’s why L’manburg was founded, isn’t it? Because he saw the way your family was being stifled out of existence by Dream, and he said no more.

He wanted everyone you care about to be safe so badly, wanted to make a place where they could just be kids, just laugh and play and not have to worry about a crazed murderer toying with them for his own sadistic ends.

(Fat lot of good you did protecting them from that)

Alivebur had been so broken, after Schlatt had taken his country. Everything he’d fought for, the safety he’d paid for and lied for and died for, all gone in an instant as he’d lost his second life to someone who’d been an ally only seconds before.

Fundy and Tubbo had been trapped within the walls of the city he’d built for freedom, even after they were torn down.

Tommy had been alone with him, banished from the only home they had.

You wonder when, precisely, Wilbur Soot had told himself that L’manburg was more important than your family.

It was probably when Fundy disowned him.

No wonder he’d been so damn happy to die.

\--

You stand beneath an overhang as it snows, the flurry of flakes blanketing the world in white.

The wind would be icy cold if you could feel it, you think.

Your shoes don’t leave any imprint in the snow as you walk to the edge of your little safe zone, and the snow doesn’t crunch under your feet.

You extend a hand just past the edge, and a single snowflake falls on it, wandering right through your body and leaving a burning pain behind that you can’t help but relish.

If you were to take just a few more steps, the snow would burn you away to nothing and you’d be free of thought until the storm ended. You know because you’ve done it before.

The world keeps going on, even now you’re dead.

It would be so easy to let yourself fade away, to die for real and not come back in any form.

You’d just be another wisp of smoke in the wind.

\--

You know that Wilbur Soot was not a happy person.

You aren’t either.

\--

Philza says he’s been doing some research on necromancy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never seen an episode of RWBY in my life, but Mirror Mirror Part II came on pandora while I was proofreading this and I just  
> It fits the mood so well, guys


	2. Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The necromancy is successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, this chapter is super short. The next one is longer, I swear! (Though it is still kinda short, but this is a short fic)

L’Manburg is, somehow, still going.

Even after Doomsday, after Technoblade summoned all those withers and Dream rained TNT from the sky, it’s still going.

Why do they bother, when the only time L’Manburg could be even generously described as pleasant was those brief moments between Tommy giving Dream the discs in exchange for independence and what had happened at the election?

L’Manburg was a place Alivebur built to keep your family safe, and you don’t understand why they keep going back to it after it’s fallen so far from the ideals it was built upon.

They keep trying to improve it, like they don’t know that repairing a house is a bad idea when said house is still on fire, like it wouldn’t be better if they just left it and started anew.

You died for it, though, all three times, so maybe you’re not one to talk.

\--

When your resurrection finally happens, it’s a small affair.

Philza, Technoblade, Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy.

Your family.

Tommy looks uncomfortable, beyond just his general displeasure with the ill-tailored suit he’s worn to the occasion. 

Fundy mostly just looks awkward, sitting a bit away from the main gathering like he’s not sure if he should be here.

Despite that, they came, and that fact elicits a warm feeling in your chest.

That warmth is dwarfed by apprehension, because this time you know the resurrection won’t fail.

\--

The shattered remains of the button room fill you with a terrible kind of nostalgia, a fragment of memory beyond just the pure elation Alivebur had felt as Philza had given in and rammed a sword through his chest.

It almost makes you want to get rid of your blue, to just drop it and let yourself feel the cocktail of emotions this place evokes for you.

At the same time, you want to hold your blue so tightly it would make your hands bleed if you had any blood left, and in the end you choose the latter.

You’re holding a totem in your left hand, and it scares you because you’re scared of yourself.

You’re terrified that Philza will kill you and when Alivebur replaces you he’ll be the same insane bastard that blew this nation apart the first time, that he won’t be any different and that he’ll take his new chance at life as an opportunity to spread even more pain and death and destruction so far past the point where it could possibly serve any purpose.

But what other choice do you have? You could stay dead, sure, but you’d just be stuck in the same stasis you’ve been in since you woke up in the ruins of the nation you built yourself.

You want to be there for the people you care about. You want to take their pain away, and for that you need to understand why they’re in pain in the first place.

And call it selfish all you like, but you want to know what you did to make your son look at you with that much pain in his gaze.

So you say Alivebur’s lines, and Philza says his, and you falter your way through the phrase that so loves to freestyle dive out of your mind as soon as it enters-

“It was never meant to be.”

And more happens after, but that’s what sticks in your head as your father skewers you once more and you dissipate like smoke on the breeze.

Then…

\--

[Wilbur Soot joined the game]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm addicted to cliffhangers. Next update will up tomorrow, though!  
> Also, for those of you who haven't read my bio, (probably all of you, to be real here) feel free to point out any spelling or grammar mistakes you see, or any tags you think I should add!


	3. Rememberance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was fun to write.

I come to on my knees, which is ironic because-

Hey! Why am I stuck thinking in first person now? This is awful!

What happened to disassociating my way through existence? That was way better! 

Moving on from the fact that I’m apparently now forced to actually focus on my own existence, (which is bullshit) I come to on my knees, which is ironic considering all the atrocities I’ve committed in the name of staying off them.

It’s not super comfortable, so I shift my legs into a better sitting position, leaving my feet to poke out from under the edge of my coat.

...My coat, which I’m apparently wearing. 

I honestly don’t have the energy to question that, so I just adjust the collar slightly from where it had been poking into my chin and otherwise ignore it.

I look up, and…

Well, there everyone is. They haven’t really moved much, so I guess I wasn’t gone long.

Philza and Techno aren’t really doing anything of interest, so I let my eyes move past them. Tubbo looks like he’s trying not to have a panic attack, which is honestly fair given how I started off his presidency. Fundy mostly just looks conflicted.

Tommy is staring at me like he’s just seen a ghost, which is the opposite of what’s currently happening.

I don’t honestly blame him.

His mouth opens seemingly of its own accord, but no sound emerges. He opens and closes it a few times, before whispering so quietly I’d probably miss it if the room weren’t deadly silent.

“Wilbur?” And there are so many emotions in his voice, so many things going unsaid, and how do I even respond to that?

In the end, I go with a simple “Yeah,” and I hate how my voice breaks.

I clear my throat and try again, because the only thing worse than my fear of saying the wrong thing is my hatred of this oppressive silence.

“Yeah, it’s me,” and Tommy does a full body flinch. I… Probably deserve that. Well, back to talking! I hate this emotional awareness I apparently have now! All this guilt is awful!

“I thought it would be more like death, you know?” I fidget with my hands a bit. Wish I had some damn blue right now. “But it’s just... “

I trail off.

Techno, another hater of awkward silences, saves me from my conversation-carrying by interjecting.

“So you remember, then?”

“I do, yeah. Eugh,” I pull a face, “My brain is forcing me at swordpoint to confront all the shit I repressed. 0/10, would not be resurrected again,” 

Philza giggles, because he’s terrible at dealing with emotional moments and- oh hey is that where I get it from?

“What, so you’d rather just keep running from the consequences of your actions and pretend what you did wasn’t your fault?” Ah, Fundy appears to have decided how to feel about this whole thing. I cringe slightly, since I think I know what he’s referring to and it’s not this.

“I did say something to that effect, didn’t I…” Why, almighty Prime, do I always have to say dumb shit that comes back to bite me later? 

Fundy’s eyes narrow. “And then you drank an invis pot and ran away,”

Wishing I had one right now, I respond, “Right… Yeah,” Which is such a cowardly sentence that if I still had the ability I’d retroactively erase it from my mind.

He’s my son, right? He deserves better than this. He deserves better than me, too, but the thing with Eret fell through so I might as well at least attempt to be slightly less of a spineless weasel.

“...I’m sorry.”

And honestly, the worst thing of all is the naked surprise on his face.

Man, why do I suck? Why did Sally ever let me near a kid?

Wait.

WAIT.

“I ATE SALLY?”

“Yup.” Philza pops the P.

I lift my hands to my face and use them to yank my beanie over my eyes. Why would I-? How could I have done that? She was my wife, I used to run my fingers over her scales as I whispered sweet nothings and she stared at me with those beautiful beady eyes and I just ate her like it was nothing.

Prime, so many of my life’s tragedies are ones I’ve caused myself, it’s almost ironic. 

I… Don’t have it in me to mourn Sally right now. That’s something I’ll cry about later, lose sleep over and have nightmares about, but for now I just don’t have the energy to grieve her as she deserves.

I don’t seem to have the energy to do anything properly, right now. 

Or ever, given my track record.

“I’m just- I’ll process that later,” I wipe my eyes and pull my beanie back up, because I’m a talented person and I’m using those talents to reschedule this mental breakdown for a later date.

“So! Yeah! I remember things! Including all the things I forgot!” False enthusiasm, my old friend! 

Oh, Tommy is making an interesting face! I wonder why-

Right.

He didn’t tell anyone about exile, did he? 

What do I even do about that? He’s got buckets of trauma from it, so I can’t just be all ‘oh hey, I remember when I trusted Dream enough to cut off all communication between you and the people you care about, that sure was fucked up of me, huh?’ Because _trauma_ , and also that’s just generally a terrible way to approach fucked up things you did, which _yes_ , I _do_ know, shut up.

Actually, I didn’t ever say that I wasn’t delivering his messages, did I? I mean, he’s probably figured it out, but this is Tommy we’re talking about so there’s really no way to be sure.

“Speaking of things I remember now, I feel like I should mention that I didn’t deliver any of the letters you sent during your exile, if you hadn’t figured that out,” Awful, terrible way to say it, no delicacy at all, but it’s been said!

Tommy blinks. Then he raises an arm slightly in an aborted gesture before it falls back to his side.

Then he raises both arms, palms flat and sideways like he’s holding a box in the least efficient way possible, and says

“What the FUCK, big man,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, feel free to leave a comment! I read all of them. :)  
> If I ever continue this, it'll probably just be Wilbur murdering Dream.


End file.
